


Fresh Towels: Or Geralt Did Not Sign Up For This

by xxxabbynormalxxx



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Nesting, Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Knotting, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Nesting, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Pregnant Sex, Slut Jaskier | Dandelion, Suckling, and builds a nest, but hes gonna be the daddy, geralt is not the father, geralt is tired and over this, jaskier keeps napping in geralts bed, maid jaskier, needy jaskier, surrogate alpha, then gets railed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23658454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxabbynormalxxx/pseuds/xxxabbynormalxxx
Summary: Jaskier doesn't need an alpha, just because one got him pregnant doesn't mean he needs on in his life now. Jaskier has his life together he has a job and a place to live and if he happens to keep accidentally falling asleep in the room at the end of the hall at the inn instead of cleaning it well that's none of anyone else's business.I'm in quarantine and it's gotten weird so here's some nesting Jaskier fic where he gets railed and Geralt gets to be a stepdad.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 49
Kudos: 478
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Chapter 1

Jaskier is a sexually liberated omega. There is no two ways about it; he is Down To Fuck and proud of it, and, he most certainly does not need an alphas permission to do so. Jaskier has been positively shameless since he left home and makes no apologies about it. This lifestyle choice does, however, have complications.

Complications that have landed Jaskier where he is now: 7 months pregnant, working in an inn as a maid, and not having seen hide nor hair of the alpha, who after one fraught night in the alleyway behind a local tavern, revealed to Jaskier that he had a beta wife and two children at home of his own and no place for Jaskier or his bastard. As far as Jaskier is concerned, there is no father and there never was.

Things are fine, Jaskier didn't want a bond from Mr. Alpha-With-A-Secret-Family anyway, he doesn't need an alpha, he is doing just fine on his own; him and his little bun. He has a job, albeit the owner of the Hogshead Inn is no fan of unwed pregnant omegas, but that is neither here nor there, and his own modest set of rooms with just enough space for him and his little bun when he gets there; he doesn't need or even want some stupid alpha coming in biting him and telling him what to do, ruining the little sliver of independence he fought to carve out for him, well now for his little bun too.

Jaskier is too busy to date even if he did want an alpha in his life (which he most certainly does not). He spends his mornings in the kitchen at the Hogshead Inn keeping away from the angry beta who owns the place; just because he managed to irritate Mr. Higgins into giving him a job does not mean he wants to spend time with the man. His afternoons are spent cleaning the guest rooms once guests have gone out for the day; changing linens, leaving towels, and returning dishes to the pub on the ground floor. The rest of Jaskier’s time is spent preparing for his Bun, realistically this means catching naps in an empty room at the inn or back at his own set of rooms above the bakery. Jaskier has worked hard since he convinced Mr. Higgins to give him a job, well as hard as one can work when their ankles are swollen and most of their energy is being spent growing an entire human being, one way or another his work gets done even if there are a few cat naps in between. 

~~~*~~~

Geralt is a Witcher, and as such, an alpha with no desire or time for an omega or their smells and whims. They force you to stay in one place, they complain if you are away from home for too long, they make Roach's saddle smell all distracting when they complain about their feet and convince Geralt to let them ride on Roach’s back, and they are just far too fragile to survive the Witcher lifestyle for any length of time.

He's in town to deal with some sort of mystery beast that he hasn’t managed to find any trace of or information about other than that, apparently, the beast has been stealing horses when people stop in the forest and eating them, leaving villagers stranded. So, on top of this being yet another long thankless job in a line of long thankless jobs, and having to regularly slog through the marshes that surround this God-forsaken hamlet, he has to maintain a room at the local inn so he can stable Roach there.

Geralt is exhausted, he’s been out in the woods all night looking for this mystery beast that at this point he would normally move on but he needs the bounty on this beast to buy enough supplies to make his way to the next town. Roach is getting positively spoiled in the inn, sleeping indoors with a nice bucket of oats and Geralt envies him. He can’t wait to go to the expensive room he’s been forced to pay for and take a hot bath. He makes his way up the staircase from the pub downstairs and down the hallway to the last room on the left, his body, which has been heavy with exhaustion since he abandoned the hunt when the sun rose and began making the long trek back to town, is suddenly on high alert when he notices his door slightly ajar.

“Fuck” Geralt sighs and shakes off the exhaustion and draws his sword before kicking his door the rest of the way open. Geralt steps into the room cautiously, eyes sweeping the room and not finding a threat. Geralt scent’s the air, tasting omega musk, following the scent he stalks across the room to his bed, Geralt sighs heavily. He is, to an unfortunate extent, aware that there is some prestige behind bedding a Witcher, thought to be more beast than man, with inflated stories falling from the lips of bards, this has been a problem in the past. Normally Geralt is up for a roll in the hay with one of a village’s more adventurous milkmaids, and this is not the first time some young omega has slipped into his bed to surprise him, but Geralt is soaked to the bone and exhausted. He is not in the mood for some squealing maiden or for the inevitable Alpha father or betrothed that follows.

"Out" he grunts, ripping back his sheets, "I have no energy for bedding another country-" Geralt stops inhaling the milky sweet scent that was released when he tore back the covers. There is not a milkmaid or farmgirl in his bed, there is instead a very pregnant omega, an omega so far along his milk has clearly come in based on the twin wet patches now on his sheets. The omega had clearly been sleeping in his bed, drooling on a soiled shirt he left on his bed the night before hoping the inn would launder it with the linens. Geralt may be a Witcher but he is not heartless, the pregnant boy clearly smells exhausted, but Geralt does not need some alpha-mate coming to challenge him just because his omega broke into his room for a nap and came home reeking of his scent.

Jaskier has, in hindsight been getting a bit tired by the end of his rounds for some time now. He honestly didn’t mean to fall asleep before finishing his work, he isn’t some lazy kept house omega, he only meant to sit on the super comfortable bed for a moment, it was the last room in the inn he had to clean and maybe after that moment he put his feet up for just a moment more. No one would blame him, his ankles are just so swollen it had nothing to do with how the furs sheets and pillows were imbued with the scent now rolling off of the angry alpha looming over him.

"Get over yourself," the omega glares up at Geralt, his cheeks heating, the scent of embarrassment and shame filling the room, “I wouldn’t bed you if you were the last alpha in town.” Jaskier rolls his eyes at the shocked alpha still towering above him before purposefully striding out of the room, completely forgetting to finish making up the room.

Geralt looks longingly at his unmade bed noting the bucket of cleaning supplies the omega left on the floor. Geralt sighs scooping up the bucket before leaving it in an easily noticed corner of the hallway. Geralt shakes off the interaction with the fiery little omega and begins searching the room for towels to take his bath. “Fuck.” There are no towels, and that omega was angry enough to spit acid, he would sooner claw his face off than give him one. Geralt takes his old shirt off the bed and gives it a sniff grimacing, it reeks of omega milk but anything smells better than what he’s wearing. Geralt strips down and resigns himself to using his cleaner shirt as a towel, holding it to his face as he sinks into the bath, inhaling deeply the intoxicating scent as his other hand slipped below the water’s surface. “Fuck”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look chapter two geralt finds a work around to maybe get hold of a towel. this is not a great chapter but like we gots to do what we gots to do and geralt's gots to be frustrated as shit.

Now finding an omega in his bed once isn’t out of the norm for Geralt, he is after all a Witcher and built like a brick house. Twice is really just a coincidence, maybe even three times if the omega is particularly determined to bed a Witcher. Geralt is well aware that this is a different situation and has been exceedingly lenient, Geralt's room is the last one in the hallway and the boy is concerningly pregnant. Really who lets their mate out that heavy with child, Geralt can smell the lad’s leaking tits as soon as he hits the top of the stairs most days. The boy’s scent has completely permeated the inn he’s so far along. It makes sense that on occasion he may fall asleep on the job, really the boy should be home in bed by this point not going up and down the stairs at some inn full of all sorts of unsavory characters.

Four times however, four times coming back after spending his nights trekking through marshes and forests to find his bed full of omega is a pattern; a frustrating pattern since, despite the maid spending an inordinate amount of time in his room, Geralt still has no towels. "Omega you should be home," Geralt sighs at the lump under the ever-growing pile of furs on his bed before sitting on the edge of the mattress to unlace his boots. “Run along home to your Alpha.” Geralt tugs down the top layer of furs revealing a fluffy head of hair and a cross omega.

"Don't have or need one, do we bun?" the pile mutters back before Jaskier scoots his impressive bulk up against Geralt’s headboard, stretching and turning to glare at Geralt like he’s the one intruding. “I do have a name you know; you could use it instead of calling me omega.” Jaskier pouts at his lap before starting the process of heaving himself up out of the Witcher’s bed.

Geralt’s eyes widen for a moment, he didn’t even consider that the sweet-smelling boy didn’t have an alpha waiting for him at home, that he could be completely on his own in the world. “I’d use it if you deigned to tell me little bird” Geralt grunts helping to heave the omega out of the giant pile of furs he has somehow accumulated.

The omega smelling of sleep and milk brushes him off before waddling past Geralt towards the door “Jaskier, Jaskier Dandelion and this is my little bun.” The omega says more to his stomach than Geralt himself before pausing at the door frame proudly announcing cheerfully "I brought those extra furs you asked for by the way!" before waddling out the door.

Geralt gapes at the closed door as it bounces off the door frame giving him a view of Jaskier as he turns into the stairwell "towels!" Geralt shouts as the door swings closed again, ”Fuck.” Geralt sighs, his head dropping with the resignation of a man who really should have known this would happen as he blindly reaches beside him to rescue whatever article of his clothing the omega has decided to leak milk all over this afternoon before taking heavy measured steps towards the bath.

~~~*~~~

Geralt emerges from the forest a slight spring in his step despite the mud frozen to his pants and boots. Today he is going to have an actual bath, with an actual towel, he deserves a bath, even Roach has his own towel like blanket back at the inn it is only fair. Last night as the sun set, and the shops closed, Geralt startled an older omega closing a fabric stall in the market. A fabric stall which, if he goes there today while they are open, will sell him a godforsaken towel.

Once he finally has his towel, he can bathe without having to squeeze his knot or wrestle his still hard cock back into his breeches because the maddening scent of that boy is so ingrained in his clothes and room that he can’t get a moment’s peace. Even now, after trekking through miles of swamp and mud all night, if Geralt were to bring his collar to his nose he knows he would find the intoxicating scent of pregnant omega, that boy, Jaskier, is _absolutely ripe._

Geralt gleefully purchases his towels from the concerned omega running the stall before heading towards the Hogshead Inn. He passes a bakery, which somehow amazingly reeks of Jaskier and the scent follows him across the square towards the inn. After a quick stop in the stables, only to be snubbed by Roach in favor of the stable boy who happened to have a basket of apples, Geralt bursts through the pub door striding across the room with purpose. Today is the day.

Geralt takes the stairs two at a time, bursting through the door of his room “Away with you Jaskier” he growls already stripping out of his shirt and depositing his newly purchased towels on top of the pregnant omega-shaped lump on his bed in the process. “I have no time for pregnant omegas today.” Geralt’s good mood is untouchable he has towels. Geralt grabs the towels from the bed before pulling away the top layer of furs in the omega’s ~~nest,~~ not nest, it’s just where he seems to keep accidentally falling asleep. Geralt leaves the omega still in his bed and wanders towards the bath, “Out Jaskier,” Geralt’s already undoing his trousers when he hears the door slam behind him.

Geralt ignores Jaskier’s exit, the mood swings of pregnant omega’s are none of his concern. He sinks down into the hot water, tight muscles relaxing for once, not forced to press cloth soaked in omega to his face. Geralt feels the tension of the past week leave him, content in his relaxation only leaving the bath when the water grows cold.

When Geralt does eventually rise he eyes his filthy clothes with trepidation, internally cursing himself for not thinking ahead, Geralt shrugs flops face-first into ~~the omega’s~~ , _his_ it’s his bed it’s not a nest no matter what that damned boy seems to think, his bed wearing just his towel and inhales deeply. Geralt growls immediately growing hard as the scent of sleep warm omega fills his nose, his eyes shift to red and his fangs dropping, “Fuck”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man lots of you like this huh? well lets slog through this awkward middle section so our boy Mr dandelion can get ploweddddddd

**Author's Note:**

> look there will be more of this maybe tomorrow maybe later this week who knows I'm quarantined and getting weird.


End file.
